


Come High Water

by Spoon888



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Corrupt Politicians, Culture Shock, Frame Type Discrimination, He Can't Tell The Difference Between Diplomacy And Flirting, Implied Mech Preg, M/M, Marriages Of State, No Cybertronian Civil War, Oblivious Prime Strikes Again, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23733454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Unified Heads of State, Megatron and Starscream, brace themselves for the unpleasantness of Iacon after they're invited to the city-state to meet with their newly appointed leader. However, in place of the snobbish, corrupt politician they were expecting, they find a driven young Prime, and decide to take a more ...active role in his diplomatic education.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime, Megatron/Optimus Prime/Starscream, Megatron/Starscream (Transformers), Optimus Prime/Starscream
Comments: 97
Kudos: 448





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For rainbow-slammer on tumblr

As Iacon rose to gleam on the horizon, Starscream slumped two metres down his seat and scoffed in obvious disgust. 

Himself too dignified to slump in his seat like a stroppy youngling, even in the privacy of their state transport, Megatron turned from his viewport to shoot him a reprimanding glare. "Don't." 

"Don't _what_?" Starscream challenged from down below, wings almost touching the seat of his chair and chin tucked against his chest.

"Make a scene like you did in Uraya," Megatron growled, leaning into his viewport again to take in the approaching view. 

The metropolis consisted of gold and silver skyscrapers, the rigid architecture the Elders who had championed the northern pole's growth had favoured. It looked like something out of the magical fairy tales his pampered conjunx would have fawned over as a young prince - a beautiful, rich city filled with beautiful rich mecha.

He and Starscream knew better than what fanciful stories would have younglings believe though. The city was full of persecuted minorities and the corrupt elites that sapped them dry. The silver-gold gloss of Iacon's exterior only hid it's rotten core. 

Their transport traversed along one of the lower flight lanes, twisting and turning between the forest of tall buildings. There was a distinct lack of advertisements cluttering the sides of the buildings, the jarring, neon pictures that Megatron knew as part of everyday life in Tarn, bombarding residents with slogans and promises for products they didn't need. Their absence gave Iacon a classier, more stoic feel. 

Starscream was glaring at every passing scene through his viewport, the corners of his mouth dropping lower and lower. 

"I fail to see what could possibly be so dreadful about this visit," Megatron reached over and knocked his knuckles against the underside of Starscream's chin lightly, trying to prompt a less miserable expression out of him. "A beautiful city, full of self-serving, power hungry politicians? Why, you'd be right at home with them." 

Starscream brushed him away and sat up in a huff, his arms locked tightly around himself. "You would think that because you've never been here before, you backwater hillbilly. But thanks to _these_ ," he thumbed back to his twitching wings, "I'm not quite as well respected as the other visiting diplomats." 

"I doubt that," Megatron frowned. "With Vos's comparative wealth and power-"

"Wealth and power doesn't mean much to them when they think the state leader less mentally competent than a brain-damaged scraplet," Starscream hissed. "Why else would they turn down offers of an alliance." He shot Megatron a dirty look then. "You think I would have conjunxed a lowly Tarnian like you if I'd had options? If I could have been wooed by some young, wealthy aristocrat with an uncle on the high council?"

Megatron's fist creaked as it curled into a fist. "Who is this aristocrat you want to run off with?" 

"He doesn't _exist_ , Megatron," Starscream told him impatiently. "To them, seekers like me are alright for a bit of fun, but they don't conjunx us and they certainly don't mix their coding with flight frames." 

New to the position of leadership, Megatron was still somewhat unfamiliar with the politics of the wider planet. Having to rely on Starscream for most of his information was not ideal. Especially seeing as the seeker was such a notorious liar. 

"If a prince isn't high caste enough for them-"

"It's not," Starscream interrupted seriously. 

Megatron's opinion of Iacon dropped considerably. 

"It's a wonder they invited us at all." 

"They invited _you_ ," Starscream smiled sardonically, lifting a finger to begin one of his patronising lectures on the way of the world. "Because Vos may be filled with fluff-brained clowns, but it has wealth, and now that it's leader-" he pointed at himself. "-has finally entered into a political union through conjunxing with a sensible, trustworthy, _wing-less_ Tarnian-" he pointed at Megatron, "I imagine the idea of having dealings with it is now much more appealing." 

"I see." 

Starscream scooted across the seat, his warm leg brushing Megatron's. In leaning over to see through Megatron's viewport he braced a slender blue hand on Megatron's upper thigh. 

"In and out," Starscream spoke close to his audial, his breath warm and low. "We congratulate whatever puppet they're having dance for them in court, have one drink at the party, steal as much glass-ware as I can fit in your subspace, and then we're gone." 

"A solid plan," Megatron nodded. 

He saw Starscream's smirk in the reflection of the viewport shortly before he felt the warm press of lips to the arch of his cheek. 

For Starscream, he'd weather whatever impossible social trials lay ahead. 

* * *

  
Starscream stepped out of the transport first. He tipped his head back and took a deep, long inhale of Iacon. He pulled face, nose crinkled. "Urgh." 

Megatron sampled the air himself, wondering what could possibly be worse than the foul pollution in Tarn, which Starscream had already become accustomed to. He frowned, "I don't smell anything." 

"I know, it's horrible." Starscream grumbled, taking his arm and looping it through his own, adjusting their positions so it conformed to whatever unnecessary customs Iacon had. Simple hand-holding wasn't enough for these mecha. "Even their air is clean." 

Megatron didn't comment. Starscream's distaste for everything and anything Iaconian bordered on the melodramatic, but Megatron was beginning to see his point. Iacon struck him as a place scrubbed of imperfection and undesirables. It was beginning to feel sterile and bland, colourless for all it's mirror shined surfaces. 

He let Starscream lead him across the landing pad towards guards either side of the entry way. They hadn't brought an entourage -Starscream refusing to inflict Iacon on his trine- so they had to give proof of their identity was themselves. Megatron's guards merely glimpsed at his identity chip before handing it back. The guard dealing with Starscream looked between him and the projected information for a long while, purple optics narrow. A growl began to build at the base of Megatron's throat, but the squeeze of Starscream's hand in his forearm dissuaded him from blowing up. This was Iacon, and tossing security guards over the side of high-rise landing pads was frowned upon. More so when they lacked wings. 

The guard handed the chip back and stepped aside. 

"Told you," Starscream leaned into him to mutter when they were past them and stepping through the gold and crimson hallway.

Megatron couldn't resist looking back at the guards, making an effort to memorise their faces. 

"One drink and we'll leave," he reassured his conjunx, facing the front again. 

The passed through a second set of doors and into an empty room with no other way in or out - a dead end. Megatron looked around in confusion, tense and suspicious, but Starscream walked them to the centre of the room and stopped. 

The floor beneath them shuddered, and Megatron almost stumbled when he realised the floor was a rising platform. The ceiling above their helms split apart and they rose through the floor into a grand hall. The platform clicked in place and Starscream stepped off, dragging Megatron with him towards the centre of the room - a place he had learned long ago his mate would always gravitate towards. 

They passed a hovering serving drone and Megatron plucked two decorative glasses off it's tray-shaped helm, offering one to Starscream.

It wasn't taken. Starscream's purposeful stride had slowed to a halt, his mouth falling open in surprise. "That can't be..."

"What?" Megatron followed his gaze, and nearly dropped the drinks he had procured.

In the centre of the room, surrounded by sour-faced politicians and military generals, stood a _brand-new_ _Prime_ , joyfully painted in red, and blue and silvery whites. He was tall, thanks to enviously long legs, and his face was smooth and unblemished with youth - or more likely, a recent reformat. He was nodding along to whatever drivel the Iaconian Chancellor was currently spouting, a little crease of concern deepening between his brows. His optics darted between the ancient mecha and the rest of the room, clearly a mech longing for an escape. 

He was handsome.

"We should go and rescue him," Starscream hissed, dark crimson optics _locked_ on the Prime like missiles.

Megatron hummed vaguely in agreement, gaze focused somewhere more southwards. The Prime shifted, his long pale legs catching the light reflecting off the polished floor. 

He was knocked from his musing by an insistent tug, Starscream fairly dragging him across the hall, much to the mixed shock and horror of the dignified Iaconian's who would obviously much rather the city had _not_ invited a pair of uncivilised louts like them to such an exclusive party. 

They closed in on their target. Megatron would never know if it was prejudice or Starscream's infamous reputation that sent the dignitaries scattering out of his path like he was emitting a powerful magnetic field. The commotion the huffing politicians were making drew the Prime's attention. His head snapped up, and his face broke into the most unexpected of smiles. 

A small, genuine smile. 

That somehow slammed into Megatron with all the force of a fusion blast, leaving an odd twisting feeling in the pits of his tanks - not dissimilar to how watching Starscream in flight could make him feel. 

Oh dear...

The Chancellor was all but ignored when the Prime stepped forward with open arms to greet them. 

"And here I was told you wouldn't come-" he began, his accent noticeably more relaxed than that of his cabinet, his vowels rolling gently into his consonants. He had not been of the Elite before his appointment to the Primacy, and Megatron found himself quickly warming to the mech before he knew even a single fact about him. 

"Optimus-" An old mech at the Prime's side began, sounding like he was about to reproach him for his casual greeting. 

"Optimus Prime," Starscream picked up on the given name and crooned in his most charming tone, smiling so dazzlingly even Megatron was struck by it.

He felt dull and blunt, trapped between the handsome two.

"We wouldn't have missed this for the world," Starscream continued, extending his hand, wrist limp. 

Prime missed his cue to kiss it and grasped it in a firm handshake. Starscream's optics flickered in surprise and almost the entirety of his small frame moved with the up and down with the firm motion. Starscream stared at his released servo in confusion when Prime extended his hand to Megatron next. Megatron snapped himself out of his infatuated stupor long enough to remember to grab it. In his thoughtless desire to impress the Prime he squeezed far too hard, and heard metal groan under his fingers. 

Starscream's claws dug into his forearm in warning. 

_Why are you trying to break his hand?!_

Megatron fired back a wordless burst of frantic static (easily translatable as a shriek of 'Shut up! Shut up!') and did his best to ignore the wince of Prime's left optic when he drew his servo back. 

He didn't comment on the attempted hand-breaking, or Megatron's utter lack of social skills - thank Primus. "I have heard so much about you both," he began warmly. 

"Optimus," one of the aids appeared at the Prime's shoulder again, clearly trying to lead him away. "There is someone you must meet-"

It became clear to Megatron then, that their unexpected invitation had not been the result of the union between Vos and Tarn, but at the behest of the new Prime in front of him. A new, uncorrupted, _naive_ Prime- a clean slate. 

"You'll have to excuse me," Optimus said softly, his optics dimming and losing their spark. "This shouldn't take a moment..."

He followed his aid, but cast a glance back at them before being drawn into another gathering of politicians. 

Starscream's hand on Megatron's forearm was like a _vice_. 

They had had their one drink, and greeted the new leader. All that was left to do now was steal the glass-wear and make their way home. They had told Thundercracker and Skywarp they would be returning to Vos tonight, and the trine would be expecting their arrival. 

Starscream released his arm and activated his comm link. 

"What are you doing?" Megatron asked, though he already had a fairly good idea. Starscream liked to think himself secretive, but even after just the short months they had been together, Megatron could read the devious little seeker like a data-pad. 

"Telling my trine not to wait up " 

"We're staying then?" Megatron asked casually, taking a sip of his energon. 

Starscream nearly smacked it out of his hand. "Of course we're staying! Were you even conscious for any of that?" 

Megatron nodded understandingly, "This could be a great opportunity for us. Think, an alliance between Tarn, Vos, _and_ Iacon-

"I don't care about alliances. I have my _whole life_ ahead of me to worry about making nice with evil power-hungry racists," Starscream stared at him incredulously. "I want to _frag_ him." 

Megatron lowered his cube with a weary noise. "I should have known-"

"I'm hearing a lot of judgment for mech who just spend that entire interaction staring at his legs. _And_ what was between them." 

Megatron stared at his drink so he didn't have to meet his conjunx's optics. "I happened to be appreciating the shine on the floor." 

Starscream ignored him, retaking his arm now that he had informed his trine of the change in plans. "Just stand there and look handsome. Let me do the legwork and we'll be in his berth before sun down." 

Having been victim to Starscream's whiplash-like seductive charms himself, Megatron didn't challenge his well earned confidence. 

* * *

  
Getting Prime away from his aids was their first task, but it seemed Starscream already had a tried and tested method of luring unsuspecting gentlemen away from prying optics. 

He pushed Megatron away and oh so clumsily dropped his fancy glassware on the polished floor just a metre away from where Optimus was stood. It smashed and sent silver shards scattering across the floor, and, more importantly, his foot. He gasped loudly in embarrassed cringingly melodramatic shame, and Optimus was at his side in an instant, passing orders to the cleaning drones and reassuring Starscream that it hadn't been an expensive glass really, only Bronze Age renaissance work. One of the aids had turned purple in the face. 

Megatron watched as Starscream despaired over his own clumsiness to the Prime, ever so subtly steering him further and further away from mecha that knew better than to let impressionable Prime's anywhere near a seeker with Starscream's reputation for poisoning minds. 

He felt a twinge of annoyance watching Starscream touch and pat and lean against Optimus. He wasn't jealous - only he recognised the manufactured scenario as the _exact same one_ that had led to _him_ meeting and then conjunxing Starscream. A pretty seeker knocking over a shelf of weapons at the arena, Megatron marching over to reprimand his clumsiness-

-somehow ending up entwined with him in the arena washracks not ten minutes later... 

_You manipulative tart_ , he sent, meaning every word of it. 

Starscream met his gaze when the Prime dropped to one knee before him to deftly pluck a shard of glass from his pede. _Gullible old has-been_.

Megatron ignored the swelling warmth in his chest as he made to close the distance between them. 

"There you are, Megatron," Starscream admonished with exasperation. He laid a scandalously intimate hand on Optimus's forearm. "Thank the ancients _someone_ here thought to come to my rescue." 

"Any excuse to escape my sitters," Optimus murmured, casting a nervous glance over Starscream's wing to check no one was moving in to reclaim him. 

Without preamble Starscream took one of Megatron and Optimus's hands in each of his and charged across the hall towards the gardens. "Best be quick then." 

"Starscream," Megatron began, wondering what had happened to subtlety. 

Starscream released him to bat one of the long curtains away from the doorway leading out into the crystal gardens. The crystals were cast in amber glows, beautiful against the sky's pink backdrop. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon already. 

A tug halted Megatron mid-step when someone in their chain of linked hands stopped. He turned with Starscream to find Optimus looking out across the garden wondrously, blue optics spiralling open to take it all in. 

"What's the matter?" Starscream simpered, bumping their arms together coyly. "The precious Prime has never been out of the citadel?"

"No," Optimus said simply. "Not since I..." He looked down at himself, then stopped, clearing his vocaliser.

Megatron felt Starscream's hand twitch in his own. Odd. The seeker didn't normally express any interest or concern in others beyond what he might be able to get out of it. Perhaps this Prime really did need a friend. Removed from his former life, he certainly didn't have any here. 

They stood at the top of the stairs overlooking the gardens. It was a decadently open area in the centre of one of the densest cities on the planet, space that could have been used for much needed housing wasted on a show of wealth. Optimus, with his humble but hidden beginnings, must have been thinking along the same lines. That crease was back on his forehead. 

Starscream had his helm tipped back, and rather than taking in the view of the gardens, he was appreciating the glow of the sun across the Prime's face. The incorrigible seeker was _infatuated_. 

"This is a new frame," Starscream said, releasing Megatron to stroke overfamiliar fingers down Optimus's chest. Megatron suppressed a shudder when his processor brought forth the sensory memory of those light fingertips ghosting over _him_. "Beautiful work." 

Optimus nodded, hardly taking any notice. "They kept some original features, but it still feels-" He lifted his hand, the one not ensnared by Starscream's claws, and closed it into a fist, "-foreign to me. Like I'm not myself." 

" _This_ is an interesting feature though, isn't it Megatron," Starscream purred, lifting his hand to gesture to the sides of Optimus's face, where the Prime's helm had been formated to conceal a retractable face-mask. "Whatever would a Prime need a battle-mask for? And when he has such a handsome face at that?" 

Starscream was flirting without a hint of subtlety now, but Optimus seemed to take his words as a suspicious query. "A precaution, I'm sure." 

Starscream moved away from Megatron altogether so he could shimmy up to Optimus. Megatron sighed and leant against the stair railing, watching with his arms crossed. Optimus didn't seem to get what Starscream's intentions were- perhaps too sheltered or too professional to even imagine that someone could be such a outlandish tramp.

He settled a friendly hand on Starscream's shoulder. "If you're cold we could return inside." 

"Or _you_ could warm me up?" Starscream said sultrily, and such a bold statement would have had most mecha frothing at the mouth. Iaconian's may hold outlandish prejudices against seekers, but even they couldn't deny the simple universal truth that they were beautiful. 

And Starscream was at the end of his tether when the Prime turned out of his arms towards the curtains leading back into the hall, "Of course, I'm sure I can find you some sort of shawl."

 _You're losing your touch,_ Megatron arched a brow at Starscream's dark, burning face.

 _Fine_! Starscream was so angry his cheeks had filled with hot air. _You do it then if you're so irresistible!_

"Gladly," Megatron said aloud, and stepped after Optimus, caught his wrist, and-

"I believe my conjunx meant a more old fashioned method of warming." 

Optimus looked at the black hand locked around his wrist, "An old fashioned-?"

Megatron had no patience left in him to wait around for Optimus to figure out his meaning. He tugged him close, their armour collided with a clang, and seconds before Megatron's lips closed atop of his, a battle-mask shot into place across them. Megatron snapped his head back in surprise, his lips having come within a hairbreadth of getting caught between them. 

Optimus's bright blue optics blinked at him. "But you're conjunxed?!" He blurted, optics darting to Starscream. 

Starscream's frowning face appeared at their sides, the arches of his cheeks still a little flushed. Megatron rather liked the look on him. It often took much more than an innocent misunderstanding to bring about a blush on that seeker's face. 

"We are," Megatron agreed. "And in conjunxing we agreed to share all that we have and are-"

"And what's his, is _mine_ ," Starscream added, pointedly looking at the hand Megatron had locked around the Prime's wrist. 

He slipped under their arms and began wriggling his way between their frame's. He was a head shorter than them both. He tipped it back to peer up at Optimus, lifting one claw to trace the seam of the battle-mask down the middle. "Besides, what better way to form a union?"

They meant a casual frag to break the ice, but Optimus-

"You... You want to conjunx me?" 

Megatron felt his own shock mirrored in Starscream as the seeker stiffened. Slowly, they looked at one another, and though the idea had not come to them before (Starscream even claiming to be _against_ trading more of his spark for further poltical gain) looking at each other they came to a wordless agreement. Very quickly, and very easily. 

Vos and Tarn and Iacon? They would be unstoppable.

What more, Optimus _was_ a handsome mech. 

"Yes," Megatron stated.

"Oh _yes_ ," Starscream purred, caressing his chest. 

"Most definitely." 

"Advise you, conjunx you, frag you -the works," Starscream clasped his hands together. "Look at it this way. You're going to need us. You invited us here because you _knew_ you needed us. 

Well I," a hint of pink was glowing out of the top of the battle-mask, like Optimus was blushing under it. "I am - I was a fan of your work," he looked at Megatron. 

Starscream made an exasperated noise. "Yes, he's very good at smashing heads together-"

"I was referring to your writing," he told Megatron, "Towards Peace-"

Something thumped in Megatron's chest again. He could hardly hear Starscream's incredulous, ' _You've actually read that?'_ when he dove in for a second time, uncaring of the battle-mask, to kiss the handsome Prime. Optics widened in surprise, but almost on it's own volition the mask shot back, and Megatron's mouth collided with soft, pliable lips. 

He pushed at Optimus's lips with his own, shifting kissing parting his lips and allowing Megatron to deepen it, his tongue flicking out to drag across the bottom of Optimus's. A low hum sounded when Optimus tilted his helm. Megatron took a step closer, sliding a hand around the small of Optimus's back. 

He felt Starscream wriggle between them with a needy sound, leaning up to nuzzle their necks and under their chins. Megatron drew back slightly, and like a starving mech Starscream leapt up to claim Optimus's wet, plush lips for himself, assaulting him with a much more thorough, messy sort of kiss, tongue sliding past lips and sharp denta nipping. Megatron heard Optimus grunt in surprise at the roughness. He understood his shock. It took some time to grow accustomed to Vosian Kissing. 

Optimus broke away with a gasp of breath. His lips were swollen. Megatron purred appreciatively and leaned in again. 

"We -we should make an announcement," Optimus struggled to speak between Megatron's short, but no less passionate, kisses. "Regarding our intentions to-"

"So those stale old mecha in there can sabotage it before it's even official?" Starscream said sternly. 

"They wouldn't-"

"So naive," Megatron purred affectionately, kissing along the side of his face and licking over his audial to make him gasp. 

"They don't have your best interests at spark, Optimus," Starscream said slyly, smiling. 

"Oh, and you do?" Some heat made it into Optimus's voice then. Megatron rather liked the harsh edge to his fine. He kissed the cables his neck with more ferocity. He felt Prime's fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him.

"We could do, yes," Starscream kissed the underside of his chin. They crowded him, making it difficult for him to overthink. "Trust takes time to build." 

"Through interfacing?" Optimus grunted, tilting his neck back to allow them more access. Megatron sucked a cluster of wires into his mouth, running his tongue over them, back and forth. Optimus groaned. 

"Just think of it as a short cut," Starscream murmured, poking his head out of their tangle and looking around the so-far deserted gardens. "Isn't it Megatron?" 

Megatron recalled how his and Starscream's less than tradition courting had comprised of an entire three cycles holed up in Starscream's palace quarters, going at it like turbo bunnies. They had spoken so little that Starscream claimed not to have known his full designation until he'd heard it at the ceremony.

Conversation had not been a priority then. Perhaps this time they could multitask. 

Megatron bullied them both back against the stair railing and began to roll his hips against Starscream's aft, driving the seeker against Optimus. Optimus's hand found a wing and squeezed. 

Starscream squeaked. 

The noise snapped some sense into the Prime. 

"We can't do this out here!" Optimus snatched his hand back and blurted. Megatron was pleased to hear how breathless he sounded. 

"Yes!" Starscream blurted, arching into him, desperate for warm hands on his wings again. 

"No," Megatron pulled back, thinking of how little the guests at the pompous party already thought of him and his mate- and getting caught with their precious Prime wasn't going to make stealing him away for a shotgun union any easier. "We need somewhere private." 

He and Starscream looked to Optimus. 

"I haven't explored the citadel a great deal," Optimus admitted, "But, there may be one place I know of..."

* * *

The Prime's State Room was a large open space at the back of the citadel, facing out across the vast city. Framed with regal artwork on all sides, it's centrepiece was a wide golden desk bigger than the 'Titan' sized berth Starscream had in his royal quarters at the Vosian palace. Megatron caught Starscream staring at it, working out logistics. 

The seeker nodded in approval, striding forwards to boost himself up. "This will do."

He laid across it flat on his back, his helm hanging over the edge. Optimus blinked in surprise, watching Megatron move to stand by Starscream's helm. 

"On the _Prime's_ desk?!" He exclaimed, scandalised. He quickly turned the crystal bust of Sentinel Prime around so it was facing the opposite direction. 

" _Your_ desk now," Starscream reminded him, shifting to correct the angle of his wings before tipping his head back and letting his mouth drop open. 

Prime emitted a burst of static, loitering at the other end of the desk. "You're just going to - does foreplay not exist in the South?" 

"This _is_ foreplay," Megatron grunted, stepping forwards with his thighs parted. He tilted his hips forwards and sighed deeply when a wet, dexterous tongue began to lap at his codpiece. He cupped Starscream's chin to adjust the angle of his head. Lips latched onto the panel and sucked lightly, coaxing it open. 

Megatron teased the tip of his emerging spike against Starscream's lips, before sliding it inside the warm, wet heat. Starscream breathed raggedly through his secondary vents as he took him whole, relaxing his throat tubbing to let Megatron slide smoothly in and out. Megatron could sense Optimus watching them, swaddled in his own climbing heat but too impeded by whatever social, etiquette the stuffy Iaconian's had drummed into him to act. 

Megatron let Starscream suck on him a few moments more, before withdrawing from his mouth and taking his wings to flip him into his front. 

Starscream scrambled onto his hands and knees and shot Prime a come hither look over a wing, wriggling his backside enticingly. "You're not just going to watch, are you? Don't you want an _expert_ to break in that new frame?" 

"This is beyond improper," Optimus found both his voice and sense of authority to murmur disapprovingly. 

Still, he came forward, reaching for Starscream's hip. The second he touched it, Starscream rose off his hands and sat back on his heels, pressing his wings up against the Prime's strong chest. Optimus's arm came around his cinched waist on instinct, and Megatron watched his seeker stretch up against the Prime, arm reaching back to cup Optimus's thick neck. 

Megatron came around the desk and closed the distance between them again, standing so Starscream was half sandwiched between them. He leaned past the seeker to kiss Optimus, tentatively at first, but growing in passion when he took Optimus's hand resting against Starscream's cockpit and began to guide it down, towards the heat between the seeker's thighs. 

Starscream exhaled sharply against his collar seam when Optimus's fingers brushed his valve. One sunk in with a soft, slick noise, and then Starscream was undulating between them in desperate need, claws scratching at Megatron's chest. 

Megatron was too caught up in kiss to register the sting of his claws, lost in it, almost forgetting Starscream was between them at all. Megatron's spike found the entrance to Starscream's valve and he wedged himself closer. Optimus stumbled back but surged forward with a rev of his engines. Stuck between them, Starscream wheezed, helm thrown back to breathe. 

Optimus's knuckles brushed the heated shaft of Megatron's spike when he spread the outer mesh of Starscream's valve with his first two fingers. He pushed a silver-white thigh aside with his other hand. Megatron rolled his hips forward into Starscream delicious heat, and only when Starscream's claws bit into a delicate seam on his hip did he drag himself out of Optimus's kiss to moan. 

"I am still here, you know," Starscream scowled at them both. 

Before Starscream could start with the usual complaints, Megatron kissed him instead, steadily building up the pace. Optimus followed his lead, his hands roaming Starscream's wings, his mouth kissing up and down the side of Starscream's neck. The seeker was making delightfully soft little noises between them, muffled by Megatron's kiss. He overloaded with low, guttural noise into Megatron's mouth, his wings twitching sporadically. 

Megatron continued a while longer, moving faster and faster until overload began to approach. As it thundered closer, almost to the point of no return, he pulled out of Starscream and gripped his spike's base, his fuel pump pounding, head foggy, leaving Starscream writhing in protest. 

Optimus purred against Starscream's back, a noise so deep it cut through Starscream and rattled Megatron's spark in it's very casing. Starscream's optics faded to black and he pushed back against Optimus instead. They twisted and adjusted, then Megatron's watched Starscream's optics flash bright pink when Optimus pressed inside him. 

Megatron reached between Starscream's legs and felt the length of Optimus's spike pressing into his conjunx, thick and silky smooth. Brand new, _and_ hypersensitive, if the volume of Optimus's moans was any indication of things. 

Megatron rolled his fingers over Starscream's anterior node until the seeker overloaded again. The bite of his tight valve on Optimus's spike dragged the Prime into an overload of his own- quick to come and brutal in strength. His powerful voice yelled so loudly Megatron feared he'd alerted the citadel guards. 

They'd be looking for him by now... 

Megatron kissed them both through their overloads, alternating between one pair of swollen, panting lips and the next. Starscream began to sag, exhausted. His high-maintenance frame was not equipped for this sort of stamina. Megatron let him slip out from between them gently, and watched out of the corner of his optic as he rolled away and laid on his side on the desk, leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. 

Megatron found himself unexpectedly bullied onto the deck as well. He sat back against the edge with Optimus following.

Optimus climbed into his lap, a weight far heavier than Megatron had become accustomed to. He took broad hips in his hands and Optimus was so tall he had to tilt his head back to continue their endless kisses. His lips were swollen and numb, but he couldn't stop, and neither could Optimus. Not until a wet valve was sliding down his spike and it was a choice between breathe or suffocate. 

They panted into each other's open mouths, Optimus rising up and down on his knees, his hands cupping the back of Megatron's helmet. Megatron pinned him down and ground up into him, working his spike deep into the luscious heat. Optimus groaned. It was such a low, vulnerable noise, so different to Starscream. He overloaded in Megatron's lap, spike jetting a line of transfluid up their chests, and undone at the sight of a saintly _Prime_ driven to ecstasy on his spike, Megatron followed shortly afterwards. 

They collapsed back across the desk in a heap, Starscream crawling in next to him and Optimus falling at his other side. He curled his arms around them, feeling a deep sense of protectiveness, of ownership. 

He peered between their handsome faces, one a prince, the other a Prime, and wondered what otherworldly forces were at work that made it possible for a mech like himself to luck out so frequently. 

He smirked at the ceiling, and felt Starscream smile against his neck. 

"Told you I could get him before sun down." 

Megatron lifted his heavy helm enough to peek out the large window behind the desk, where the last stripes of sunlight were disapearing beneath the horizon. 

"I believe you said we'd be 'in his _berth_ before sundown'," He teased. 

A slap was dealt to his chest. Luckily, Optimus was already in recharge on his other side, and didn't yet know what level of dysfunction he had signed himself up for.

* * *

**Epilogue**

  
"I can't help but wonder if this was all an elaborate trap," Optimus accused Megatron some weeks later, buffed and polished to the nines because even if Iacon did not endorse their union (were rabidly against it, in fact) the ceremony had to meet with their impossible standards. 

"You're accusing the wrong mech," Megatron said lightly. "Starscream was the mastermind." 

"You lured me away-" Optimus began listing off their crimes. "Seduced me with a gorgeous seeker-"

"I thought I played some part in the seducing as well?"

"You damn well know you did," Optimus glared. 

Unbeknownst to Optimus, Megatron's tank fluttered. He rather liked it when he could rouse that well hidden temper of Optimus's. He was looking forward to pushing those many, many righteous buttons of his in the time to come. 

"I had invited you because I was interested in forming an alliance regardless," Optimus continued. "You did not have to- to 'sparkling-trap' me." 

Megatron laughed aloud. "Starscream has no more control over his gestation tank than you do the sun, Prime." 

" _Two_ sparklings," Optimus began rubbing his helm, because if his new frame, his new life, his new leadership role wasn't enough, he was about to become a sire as well. 

"One of them is mine," Megatron reminded him to soften the blow. "In relation to it's coding, that is. Though as we're about to be conjunxed, they'll both be our problems. As will Starscream." 

Stood in the wings of the main stage where the ceremony was about to take place in front of millions, Optimus peered backstage to look for their third mate. The poor seeker was struggling with a ruthless bout of nausea, and it would be just his luck that another wave of it swept through him on stage in the middle of the vows. 

A small part of Megatron hoped it would, just to spite the sour faced officials that had begrudgingly organised the entire event, now all glowering at them hatefully. 

"You're under no obligation to stick around for the sake of the new-sparks," Megatron reminded Optimus one last time. "Seekers trine precisely for this reason." 

"Because they anticipate the sires of their young abandoning them?" Optimus asked, aghast. 

"No, because seekerlings are when the unholy spawn of Unicron meet Insection larvae from _Hell_. Carriers need as many caregivers as they can possible get." 

To his surprise, his words didn't seem to fill the Prime with mortal dread. He nodded acceptingly, optics twinkling. 

"I'm sure ours will be even worse," he murmured defeatedly. 

"Why is that?" Megatron arched a brow. 

"Alright!" Starscream's high voice rose behind them. 

They turned unison to view the out-of-sorts seeker behind them, his hands on his hips, crown lopsided, a slightly green tinge to his cheeks. 

"I'm ready." 

Megatron began to shake his helm, "You look-"

"-like I'm about to purge over the first mech that tells me I am anything less than angelic on the day of my ceremony," Starscream's optics flashed like lasers. He threw out his hands to clear a path between them, stomping past. "Let's get this over with." 

Optimus shot Megatron a knowing look before following. 

Yes, Megatron silently agreed, stepping out with Optimus. Their seekerlings would be worse. Much worse. 


	2. Pre-Epilogue

Megatron enjoyed Vos more than he would ever have anticipated before taking Starscream as his conjunx endura.

They had agreed on, but still argued over, spending half the planet's orbit in each city-state, winter-spring at Megatron's home in Tarn, summer-autumn in the heart of Starscream's beloved Vos. 

For all it's unnecessary and borderline _gaudy_ displays of wealth, Vos was a bright, serene city-state, full of culture and history. It was a contrast to Tarn in the South in more ways than just it's milder climate. The architecture of the airier city wasn't as prone to pollution either. The majority of it's infrastructure sat above ground, spiralling upwards, reaching for the clouds, unlike the industrial catacombs of Megatron's home, which trapped all the heat and smoke and smells - three of Starscream's most frequent complaints. 

Despite the many proclaimed benefits, typical Vosian living arrangements would take some time to become accustomed to though. 

Real estate was always about location, but in Vos it wasn't so much about _where_ one had their home, but at what altitude. The closer to the stars, the higher the price tag- as seekers didn't concern themselves with how many stairs they might have to climb as a grounder would have to. It meant the penthouses of tallest spires and towers were as sought after in Vos, as palaces were in Nyon. 

Naturally, Starscream had been in possession of one since long before he had even met Megatron, and no union between him and a disadvantaged grounder who would much rather live within sight of the ground was going to make him give it up. 

A decent penthouse was much harder to come across than a conjunx, Starscream had once warned when Megatron dared broach the subject. 

He was simply going to have to learn to live with the vertigo. 

It was mid-morning in Vos, but Megatron's chrono was still lagging behind on Tarnish time and he was still dozing in Starscream's ridiculously 'modern' circular recharge slab, with slippery silk covers pooled around his waist. 

He realised he was alone as his sluggish processor took gradual note of the distinct lack of pointy bits stabbing into his personal space. He rolled onto his back and blinked his optics online, sensors registering a cool breeze carrying through the huge room. 

The architect who had designed Starscream's penthouse had never heard of walls because the entire apartment was open plan and encased in a huge glass _dome_. Known as The Bubble to some -due to it's appearance sat atop Trellis Tower on Vos's skyline- it offered three hundred and sixty degree views and _no_ privacy. Every rounded glass section that made up 'The Bubble' was capable of sliding away to expose it's occupants to the elements. Something that, at the top of a skyscraper, could _only_ appeal to a seeker. 

And Starscream knew it, as during arguments he regularly threatened to open every glass panel and bully Megatron towards the edge. 

The west side of the apartment was open now, the wind blowing through and stirring the long narrow strips of white curtains, causing them to rise into the air and flutter serenely. Behind them, sat with his legs dangling over the city, sat Starscream. 

Megatron dropped his helm back against polished slab, "You're not still pinning over that Prime, are you?" 

Starscream's optics glinted at him through the sheer curtains. "Yes," he called, and scooted back from the edge to stand. As he approached the berth, Megatron noticed he was holding something in his hand. "And I expect you will too, after what I'm about to tell you." 

Megatron sat up with a groan, "What do you have there?" 

Starscream slid onto the berth and handed over a device resembling a USB, only longer and tapered at one end. The tip was rounded and metallic. Megatron turned it over to glance at the little screen set in it's centre. 

"Am I supposed to know what this is?" Megatron asked, wondering absently if it was some sort of weapon. A detonator to a bomb, perhaps. 

"It's a valvular thermometer," Starscream took it out of his hand and replaced it the right way up.

Taken aback, Megatron's shifted his grip on it so he was gingerly pinching it between thumb and forefinger, "Why on Cybertron would you need to know the temperature of your," he waved his hand, "... _internals_."

"Because I'm sparked, Megatron," Starscream informed him tonelessly. 

Megatron looked at the innocent little thermometer again, reading the screen at it's centre; _ninety eight percent positive,_ it read, followed by a cartoonish picture of a chubby, smiling sparkling's face. 

"Hmm," he acknowledged. "It appears so."

* * *

  
Getting ahold of Optimus was unexpectedly difficult thanks to both Starscream's infamous reputation around Iacon and given what had happened inside the Prime's State Room the night of the party -the passionate result of which now moulding itself into shape inside Starscream snug, warm gestation tank. 

They had all still been entwined together on, across, and under the three million year old desk -an antique of incalculable value, now dented and covered in paint scrapes and ... _fluid_ \- when they were walked in on by Optimus's chief aid, an ancient mech he had inherited from Sentinel, and Sentinel from Zeta before him. The aid was therefore approximately a billion years old, an antique in himself, and it was no great tragedy that the sight of the three of them caused his processor to lock up and his spark to try and blink out. 

He hadn't actually died though, much to Megatron's irritation. If he had, then there wouldn't have been anyone at the citadel to screen their comm calls. 

"How can you _not_ have his private comm frequency?!" Starscream demanded of him for the twentieth time as they paced their apartment together, being slowly driven mad by the repetitive droning tune of the hold music. "When you were bolts deep _inside_ him when last we saw him?!"

The hold music faded to a finish and the room was silent for one blissful moment before it restarted again, prompting Starscream to snatch up the comm device and fling it with all his might at the window. Which was sadly open. Megatron sighed as the device plummeted and the music faded with it.

"They have our private comm frequencies blocked," Megatron reminded him. 

Starscream had wandered over to the ledge, peering over it to see if the comm had somehow survived the fall. It clearly hadn't, as he faced Megatron again with a forlorn expression. 

"Megatron," he began in a sorrowful whine, "I don't ask much of you-"

"Oh, don't you?" Megatron murmured sarcastically. 

Starcream's lip twitched, but he managed to maintain his despondent, pitiful expression. "I don't ask _much_ ," he repeated stiffly, "but if you don't get hold of that Prime before the end of the cycle-"

"I'm flattered at how important you seem to think I am," Megatron interrupted, "but threats and intimidation don't go as far in Iacon as they do in Tarn. I can't bully his staff into allowing me an audience with him. We were _barely_ permitted an audience with him at a party _he_ had invited us to. He is the Prime, and thanks to your games we have been blacklisted-"

"Games?!" Starscream shrieked, hands instinctively lifting to his chassis, protecting his unsparked passengers from their sire's ( _maybe_ their sire's) insults. "I don't play games, Megatron! I'm carrying -a sparkling there's a fifty percent chance is his. I won't let those arrogant snobs rob me of the conjunx I earned." 

"You have a conjunx-"

"Well I want another one," Starscream stamped his pede. "And so do you. And this is just what I needed to get him." He steepled his fingers together, optics narrowing as he plotted. "They won't be able to drive us away from him now. Not if they want to avoid a scandal-"

Megatron, who dreaded the involvement of media even on the best of cycles, withered inside. "You're not going to expose our sparkling to the judgement of the entire planet before it's even sparked." 

"Not if I get my way, I won't," Starscream tapped his fingers together. "And I always get my way." 

Megatron felt he had a duty of care towards his sparkling, his conjunx, and his potential _future_ conjunx to ensure this situation didn't spiral out of control like Starscream's diplomatic trip to Caminus had the week before. He had now seen enough attempted drownings via energon fountain for life. "What are you going to do?" 

Starscream whirled around and sauntered towards his customisation corner, where he kept the paraphernalia he called _accessories_. "You're going to take me to Iacon," he purred, stepping up onto his pedestal in front of the triple mirror to admire himself. "And find me the best doctor the city-state has to offer." 

"We have doctors here," Megatron frowned. "Flight-familiar doctors. Iacon-"

"Iaconian doctors treat the Prime," Starscream glared at him via his reflection. "Or at least one of them will. I'm sure the med-centre in the council district will have his private frequency on record." Starscream leaned towards the mirror and wiped away a smudge from his lower lip, where he had done unmentionable things with his mouth to Megatron the night before. "They'll need it, for when they call Optimus to inform him of the happy news." 

Megatron felt a weight fall over his spark, "I had hoped we could tell him ourselves." 

"We tried to tell him ourselves," Starscream gestured towards the window. "He'll have his aids to blame for that." He turned around to step down. Megatron held out at hand to him, balancing his descent. 

Starscream smirked, fingers gliding over his, "My, your manners are improving," he teased.   
  
"Only because you're carrying," Megatron huffed, taking his hand back. "I'll arrange a transport. I don't want you flying distances in your condition." 

"Get one with a partition and blackout windows," Starscream called to him, sounding suddenly quite husky so early in the day. "And wide seats." 

"Why?" Megatron frowned, glancing back at him. 

Starscream's keen optics looked him up and down, his polished denta cutting into his lush bottom lip as he bit it, "You'll see..." 

* * *

  
The flight from Vos to Iacon took some hours yet their transport sat on the landing pad outside the Royal Council Plaza Med-Centre for an additional _two_ as Starscream 'got something out of his system'. 

Carrying Protocols, it seemed, did not take long to set in. 

Megatron clambered out first, glancing around to ensure no one had been leaning over a nearby walkway to watch their transport ship rock vigorously back and forth on it's landing gear. Once satisfied the coast was clear, he helped out Starscream, dutifully checking for armour blemishes and smudges like any decent sire-to-be would. 

"You're fussing," Starscream twitched a wing out of his grasp. "This is a med-centre, not a formal event." 

"I do not approve of the way mecha here look at you," Megatron said gruffly. 

"Well I don't approve of the way mechs from Tarn look at _anything_ ," Starscream commented lightly. 

Megatron peered down at the shorter seeker, "Are you talking about me?" 

"You just had me six ways to Cybertron in the back of a transport like your illicit paramour, what do you think?" 

They were approaching the med-center doors now, so Megatron kept his voice hushed when he argued. "I did not initiate that- _those_. Any of them." However many there had been throughout the marathon-like event. 

"Yes you did," Starscream hissed, in complete denial. "You were looking at me like I was a piece of pure energon. You know I can't say no to you." 

He swept through the automatic doors and into public space, leaving Megatron unable to defend himself. 

The reception drone noted from appearance alone that they were out-of-state patients and clearly hadn't known what to do with them, so a nurse had been summoned. 

The mech that came to 'help' them was a red and white minibot (how original for someone in the medical field) and hid a snicker behind his hand when he picked out a doctor for them, someone called Ratchet. Megatron didn't want to think about why that was cause for amusement. 

He regretted not talking some sense into Starscream. A Vosian med-centre would have been far more ideal. 

Megatron ushered Starscream towards the waiting room, skilfully distracting his conjunx with a hastily grabbed handful of hard copy leaflets so he wouldn't notice the stunned stares of the other patients at the sight of a seeker in their exclusive med-center. It was one of best rated medical establishments in Iacon, and in the Council District was only a block away from the Prime's citadel, so the waiting room was naturally full of the rich and powerful and prejudiced. 

"Why would I want this?!" Starscream exclaimed, tossing one of the pamphlets back at Megatron. It was titled, ' _Losing Your Seals; A Safe Guide To Pleasure'._ Megatron quickly crumpled it up. 

Starscream immersed himself in the remaining leaflets regarding carriage- all condescending and generalised snippets of information like common symptoms and what to expect. Megatron glanced over his shoulder vent and saw an entire page detailing increased libido and the sire's 'contribution' to developing the protoform. 

He hoped Optimus did come through. With Starscream's needs so high he might need to tap Prime into the ring on occasion to give himself time to recover. Seekers did not seem to understand the concept of a refractory period. 

"Starscream?" A gruff voice called. A grumpy medic was stood in the doorway of the waiting room, reading off a data-pad. He pulled a face. "What a designation..." 

"Yes, and a fine, noble one at that," Starscream answering hauntingly, standing. 

The medic looked up and did a double take, optics darting between cockpit and wings and down at thrusters. "Ah," he scribbled something down without looking. "That explains the designation." 

Megatron instantly disliked the medic, knowing now why the nurse had found assigning him to them so funny. 

They were led into a modestly sized office for a medic working in one of the best med-centres on the planet. Starscream sat himself in the chair opposite the desk. Megatron stood behind him, gripping the back of his chair tightly and staring down the medic. 

He was given a once over, "Your bodyguard?" 

"He likes to think so sometimes," Starscream crossed his legs and leant back. "My conjunx." 

The medic appeared surprised. Cross frame-type relationships weren't uncommon in _modern_ Iacon, but grounders actually making a conjunx of a seeker was. It seemed the prejudices extended beyond the ruling class. 

"He can stay then," the medic said, pulling out a data-pad and stylus -as if any force in the city-state could have removed Megatron from his sparked conjunx's side. "So, what appears to be the problem?"

"He's carrying," Megatron answered before Starscream could.

Starscream sighed impatiently, "I'm here for an scan and a coding check." 

The medic set his data-pad aside, "On the berth then." He pushed himself to his pedes. "Let's see if there's anything in there." 

Megatron glared, following Starscream step for step, his chest repeatedly bumping Starscream's wings. He ignored the seeker's attempts to brush him back. "If?" He growled. "He is-"

"Seekers are renowned for false positives," the medic dragged over an equipment table. "So much going on in there that their systems get overheated or confused sometimes-"

"I do not appreciate the generalisation." 

"Medicine _is_ generalised," the medic glared back at him, unfazed by his tone. He didn't break optical contact when he patted the berth for Starscream. "Up you get." 

"As much as the medic and I appreciate your bullying it's not really necessary, Megatron," Starscream shared an eye roll with the medic at Megatron's expense. "Save it for the citadel." 

"Ah, guests of the Prime?" The medic quirked an interested brow. Once Starscream was reclined he took an external scan from several different angles to create a three dimensional picture of the interior Starscream's gestation tank. 

"We hope to be," Megatron murmured, optics fixated on the loading screen. 

After a few seconds Starscream sat up, leaning in close to make sense of the blobs beginning to load. Megatron expected to see one defined bipedal shape, but the the image on screen looked more like a Rorschach test. He tilted his helm. 

The medic cleared his vocaliser. "Congrats, you're carrying," he said in a joyless voice.

Megatron felt a swoop of emotion anyway, the reality of it plowing through to his core, changing his sense of self and how he viewed his relationship with Starscream. Their union had never felt so real. 

"Don't expect to see much yet," the medic continued, "but the spark scan is detecting two additional signatures, so I hope you're equipped for twins." 

Megatron's spark swooped again. "Two of them." 

"I don't do things by half," Starscream took it all in his stride, his wing's pricking high in pride. "Now, the coding check-"

"-Is only necessary for a carrier with multiple partners," the medic scribbled something down on his data-pad, "...Unless you have an _open_ arrangement?" 

Megatron's newly onlined protective protocols tangled perilously with his quick temper. He turned on the medic angrily, taking exception to his amused tone of voice, "Why would we? Because he's a seeker and they're obsessed with fragging?" 

"Because I _asked_ for a coding check," Starscream tugged Megatron back with a hiss. He turned to the medic with a strained smile. "There is a chance these new sparks were not sired by my conjunx." 

The medic, to his credit, didn't even twitch. Whatever he thought of Starscream, he kept it to himself. Megatron fought back the urge to blurt out private details regarding their personal lives to preserve Starscream's valour. 

The coding check involved a needle, a long, thick needle that needed to penetrate Starscream's gestation tank from the outside to take a sample. Megatron would tolerate a great deal for Starscream's sake, but witnessing _that?_ \- he was thankfully saved from the experience of witnessing such a horror by a perceptive Starscream who took one look at his colourless face and gracefully kicked him out of the room. 

He was invited back in when it was all said and done, and was overcome with soft warm feelings of sympathy at the sight of Starscream rubbing his sore side with a grimace. 

"Well?" Starscream pressed the medic. 

The medic's mouth twitched with something like a smile in Megatron's direction. "You are a sire," He affirmed. "To one of the sparklings. The other doesn't match your sample." 

"That's-" Megatron was caught between several different emotions, and confusion. "Only one of them? They're not twins?" 

"Not identical ones, no. It's rare but it does happen. Dual conception." The medic handed over the data-pad. "I would suggest you contact the other sire, if you know who it is. Tell them the happy news." 

Starscream snatched the data-pad out of Megatron's hands before he could become lost in the technical jargon and jumped straight into business mode. 

Megatron admired his spirit, though sometimes he wished he could simply enjoy a moment of happiness before launching himself into plots to take advantage of the situation. They were to be parents. They had proof, and not just from a cheap gestation test Starscream had bullied the door-mech of his apartment into getting for him. 

"Yes," Starscream purred, "About the sire..." 

* * *

There was something of a commotion carrying on outside Optimus's office. One of his aids -and he exactly knew which, he recognised the shrill, indignant hiss of "utterly ludicrous!", a phrase his chief aid used liberally to complain about everything from dust specks on the serving drones to 'improper' bills passing in the senate- was shouting over the top of some poor mech from the public relations office. 

Optimus tapped his stylus against the top of his desk. Orion Pax would have made it his business to intervene. As a Prime, he was to focus on the 'bigger picture', not the menial day to day running of the citadel. 

But as both it was his prerogative to follow his innate sense of justice. 

He tossed his stylus down and in a few long strides was stepping out into the corridor. Half way down it's length his chief aid was brandishing a finger at the poor messenger. Before Optimus could demand an explanation the mech much in need of his rescue spotted him and called his name with thankful relief. 

The aid whipped around, optics flashing. "Prime?! You'll have to forgive the noise-" 

" _Your_ noise, Sceptre," Optimus pointed out, venturing closer. He could sense the silenced mech had something of import to pass on to him. "Is there a problem?" 

"Prime, sir," the PR mech began. 

"Nothing that should concern you," his aid interrupted testily, glaring at the mech, "The Prime does not have time to sift through every outside communication that comes through. It is _my_ office's responsibility to see that the _important_ ones are passed along." 

"You go through my communications?" Optimus was surprised. He glanced at his private comm link, fearing for a moment that it had been tapped by his own aids and they were listening in on everything from diplomatic conference calls to his and Ariel- no, _Elita's_ late night gossip sessions. 

"Only those arriving through your office. We can't have the important invitations getting lost among all the banal public queries, can we," his aid clasped his hands behind his back and bounced on his heels proudly. He glanced at the PR mech, "You may leave your message with me." 

The mech looked panicked, glancing between Optimus and his aid, "But it's confidential-"

"So are most of the transmissions that come through the office," Sceptre sounded like he was losing his patience again. 

Optimus held up a placating hand, "it's quite alright. I'm free now." 

Sceptre started turning a funny colour, "That's hardly the point-!"

"It's from a medic, Ratchet, at the Iaconian Royal Council Plaza Med-Centre," the mech seized his chance to speak. "He requires your presence at his practice as soon as possible."

"The Prime has his own medics," Sceptre sounded beyond indignant. "Who is this doctor who presumes he can make demands of-"

"Did he say why?" Optimus asked. 

He was somehow heard over Sceptre's distressed ranting, because the mech answered, "Something about a seeker." 

Sceptre sucked in a sharp breath -no doubt remembering the _last_ seeker he had had the displeasure of meeting- And began a loud admonishing triad directed at the poor PR mech about 'The Prime' not affiliating himself with any seekers. 

Optimus was too taken aback to stop him at first, yanked back into memories of a night not so long ago, resurfacing after some weeks of radio silence.

It hadn't taken his aids long to usher his two lovers out, he had barely had the chance to say goodbye. Afterwards, as the days ticked by and nothing more was heard from them, he began to worry the treatment had run them off. He could hardly blame them. Was he really worth such hassle? 

"Starscream?" He murmured wistfully. 

His aid's rant halted mid-word, his face twisting in displeasure. " _Sir_ ," he began. 

Optimus ignored the warning tone, "Well, I suppose I am affiliated with _one_ seeker." 

Sceptre did not look best pleased by the reminder. 

* * *

They'd been shoved off into some private waiting room while the med-centre staff struggled to get through to the Prime's citadel. Starscream had been hoping they'd have Optimus's personal details on record, but it appeared the Prime was so very important he couldn't be expected to _visit_ a doctor like a normal citizen. Instead he had a live-in-medic. Starscream had been raised a prince in a _palace_ and even _he_ hadn't had a live-in-medic!

Still, the Prime's personal aids were much more likely to pay attention to a communication from a medic than they were the two blacklisted foreigners that had savagely seduced their brand new Prime during his presentation ball and befouled the official state room of the Prime and several irreplaceable antiques in the process. 

They were in the second hour of waiting now, and Megatron appeared to have exhausted his well of fatherly devotion as he'd abandoned his station at Starscream side, petting his wings and making comforting small talk, and was now instead entertaining himself with a handheld computer game marketed towards sparklings aged four to eight vorns. The room was filled with tinny sounding action music and explosions as he thumbed frantically at the controls, more invested in it than he was the immanence of his own shared sire-hood. 

"Having fun?" Starscream asked with an dangerous edge to his tone. 

Megatron didn't answered, enraptured with the game. 

Honestly, if anyone here had a right to distraction it was _him_. His processor was flooded with fears and second guesses he never would have normally allowed himself. What if it wasn't the aids keeping them from Optimus? What if the Prime himself had woken up and realised he could do better than a seeker and an uncivilised Tarnian?

He glared at Megatron out of the corner of his optic. If he lost his chance at being a Prime Consort because of _him_ he would kill him. 

As emotionally disturbed as he was by the whole situation, none of his spark-ache could compare to the growing ache within his lower chassis. His frame was confused and fatigued. His processor sending out signals that were crying out for nourishment but his fuel tanks were full. It was a different sort of craving, and different sort of fullness he required. 

And now really wasn't the time for it. 

He pressed his thighs together and adjusted his position, gripping the edge of his uncomfortable plastic seat as one specific spot between his hips crept up in temperature, little pulses of need growing in strength with every beat of his fuel pump. 

He slapped the game out of Megatron's hands and took his wrist. "I left something in the transport." 

Megatron frowned at the negative 'Game Over' noise that blared out of the console's tiny speakers where it lay face-down on the floor. "Do you need it?"

"Yes, " Starscream leaned in to hiss, "I need it _now_."

A little concerned but clearly oblivious to Starscream's true meaning, Megatron began to stand, brushing his hand away. "Alright." 

Starscream stood with him, "I'm coming to." 

"It doesn't take two mechs to-"

"It takes two mechs to do _this_ ," Starscream snarled stiffly, feeling charge surge through his frame as his temperature cranked up another notch. "Do not make me spell it out to you-"

His meaning slammed into Megatron like a brick to the face, stunning him. "Again?!" He whispered incredulously. 

Starscream felt suddenly, inexplicably, sensitive to it all, and Megatron's tone was not helping. 

"Yes _again_!" He cried. "How else do you think this works? Protoforms don't materialise out of thin air!"

Megatron's gaze became far away. Starscream suspected his was consulting his chrono and trying to establish some sort of schedule for it. "What if Optimus arrives?" He asked warily. 

"Then he can _join in,"_ Starscream said huffily, shifting his weight from foot to foot to distract from the pressure and heat. He wasn't sure he'd _ever_ needed a frag so-

The timing couldn't have been any less convenient had they tried. The door to their waiting room swept open to admit the grumpy medic, Ratchet, and looming behind him as a gleaming tower of red, blue, and silvery white perfection, was Optimus Prime. The heat rolling through Starscream's lower tank shot right up to his face instead. 

"Well, I hope you're all happy," Ratchet growled, stepping aside to let a frantically worried Optimus into the room. "I just lost a fifty shanix bet on him not turning up." 

Optimus tore his gaze from Starscream to stare at the medic, optics narrowing above his mask. The benevolent Prime could make an intimidating picture, when it so suited him, "Is it really ethical for a medic to make bets on the personal lives of their patients?" 

Ratchet stepped back out into the corridor, showing so little respect for the Iaconian figure-head he might as well have been from Vos himself. "You're the Prime aren't you, you tell me." 

Optimus stared after him, but whatever disapproval he had for the unorthodox medic was cleared from his mind when he remembered his reasoning for being there in the first place. 

Starscream watched him whip around again, his optics snapping between him and Megatron, their cool blue colour betraying the fear behind his mask. "Has ...something happened?" He asked, sounding tense and unnaturally unsure. He hesitated, "It has been some weeks, I was beginning to assume-"

"Yes!" Starscream wasn't able to hold it in any longer. He leapt forward angrily, ignoring the weird strangled noise Megatron made when he smacked his conjunx's bothersome hands away. "You and your _assumptions_ , Prime! Where have you _been_?!" 

Optimus's voice caught. He stared between them in shock, until he figured out in that fuzz-filled helm of his that this conversation might proceed more effectively if he retracted his face-mask. His unguarded, confused expression would have been enough to prompt sympathy out of even the hardiest of mecha- which was proved in Megatron's softening optics. 

But Starscream wasn't so easily swayed. 

"Don't you look at us like that! You -you cad!" 

Optimus flinched back. " _Cad_?!" 

Megatron muffled a snort of derision. "Starscream I doubt he has the capacity to-"

"-To lead on two unsuspecting mecha with his promises of conjunxing to get a curiosity frag out of them, and then have the servants throw them out in disgrace?" Starscream exclaimed. "Wake up, Megatron, he's every bit the schemer Sentinel was-"

Optimus's gaze darkened at that comparison. Starscream felt of thrill of satisfaction when the Prime took a menacing step forward, only to be blocked by Megatron stepping between them. "Stop this!" He demanded. 

Optimus didn't look ready to let it go, but any hopes Starscream had of the two larger mechs getting into a grapple and sating his cathartic desire for second-hand violence was eradicated by Megatron's defeated slump and quiet admittance that, "We've missed you."

"I haven't!" Starscream claimed, arms folded. 

He was ignored. Optimus's frown collapsed away when he met Megatron's optics "...You never contacted me-"

"You have your snobbish aids to thank for that!" Starscream yelled. 

"We didn't have your private comm frequency," Megatron explained, "and we were prevented from reaching you through official channels. Our calls were being screened." 

Optimus was completely oblivious to the prejudice in his own office, "By who?" 

"Never mind that now!" Starscream flapped a hand hastily, his frustration with the situation increasing his impatience. He would deal with Optimus's troublesome aids _after_ he had secured himself a position as Optimus's beloved consort, as had been his original plan. Then he could fire the lot of them with flourish. "Megatron, tell him."

Megatron looked stunned at his nomination to relay the news. He struggled for a moment, unable to meet Optimus's steady gaze, "Well, it would seem-"

"I'm sparked," Starscream snapped, realising he didn't have the patience for Megatron's dithering after all. Megatron shot him a dark look but Optimus was too busy reeling from the news to notice. 

"...That's -that's wonderful," a smile reached Optimus's mouth, "I'm so happy for you bo-"

"You're one of the sires, Prime," Megatron stated gruffly. 

"I'm-?" Optimus was suddenly unsteady on his pedes. His hand flew out to catch Megatron's shoulder to try and stop himself teetering over. Megatron struggled to rebalance him, a large hand on his windshield. Starscream watched them with no intention of helping. 

Optimus looked between him and Megatron in shock. "I am?" 

"Yes, so there's lots to do," Starscream dug into his subspace and pulled out the data-pad he had been working on intermittently during their flight to Iacon- in the moments Megatron stole for recovery from his attention.

Optimus was steered into one of the colourful plastic seats by Megatron, but didn't appear to be hearing anything as Starscream began listing off their priorities in order of importance, starting with-

"We'll need to announce the start of our upcoming ritus before any of the underpaid hacks here run to the media, like that awful medic that saw me- I won't have the Iaconian media inventing gossip about me sparkling-trapping the Prime-"

"Perhaps this can wait," Megatron glared up at him, his hand resting on Optimus's bowed back. Optimus was leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees, deep in thought. 

Starscream lowered the data-pad, "Wait for what?" 

"Not everyone can swing with the punches as easily as you can," Megatron said stiffly, " _I've_ barely had time to adjust to the idea of being a sire-"

"Punches!" Starscream could hear his voice going up in pitch. "How dare you! My sparklings aren't punches, they're fragging miracles and I'll thank you both to remember that!" 

Optimus lifted his helm. He looked to be in a daze. Starscream braced his hands against his hips impatiently, brow arched, "You said you wanted to conjunx us, now you have the perfect excuse." 

Optimus frowned, "To avoid a scandal?"

Starscream nodded, "Those aids of yours won't be able to reject me so easily if I'm carrying your offspring." He glanced at Megatron. "And I suppose they'll allow him too, considering...."

Megatron scowled. 

Optimus stood with a sigh, his expression unreadable, but weary, "But I didn't want to conjunx you to avoid a scandal. I wanted to conjunx you because ...because I'm quite attached to you."

Starscream hummed approvingly -Megatron, ever the romantic, looked ready to sweep the Prime off his feet, or get down on one knee and recite an poem. Starscream wished he had brought a spray bottle to squirt at him. 

"I suppose we're quite fond of you two," Starscream admitted reluctantly. 

Optimus's smile was bright and eager. "Will you accompany me back to the citadel. You've had a long day, and in your condition-"

"Yes," Starscream purred sultrily, "Speaking of my condition..." 

Now that the emotions in the room had cooled a little, Starscream felt a different sort of heat resurfacing below his spark. He twitched his head at Megatron, gesturing towards the door, reminding him where they left off before Optimus's arrival. 

His conjunx cleared his vocaliser, "We have a transport on the landing bay," his hand rested on Optimus's back at he stood. "You can fly with us."

Optimus lifted a hand to politely decline, "I brought my own-"

Starscream and Megatron grabbed a wrist each and began to drag the unsuspecting Prime towards the exit. 

"No," Starscream insisted loudly, "You're flying with us." 

* * *

  
Starscream's transport vessel was nice. At least, Optimus _assumed_ it was Starscream's transport - top of the line, vibrantly coloured, an interior filled with plush seats wrapped in expressive upholstery and the sort of opulent extras Optimus had only ever seen in an off-world oligarch's luxury liner before. It wasn't Megatron's style, or at least Optimus's _impression_ of what Megatron's more down-to-earth style was. 

He fell across the soft seating with a clumsy haste his handlers would have despaired off and watched as his company climbed into the darkened interior after him. 

The thought hit him abruptly, as he watched them settle themselves, that he actually knew very little about them. Their public personas and political careers he had studied endlessly, but their personal lives? Their likes and dislikes? How they spent their free time? Their petty hates? Their favourite drinks? 

He was going to conjunx these two mechs - he had gotten one of them _sparked_ , but he hardly knew them. 

It was an accepted part of life for the elites of Iacon, and even Vos, to take a conjunx-of-convenience, a life partner who was more business partner, a carefully selected candidate that could provide advice or wealth or status or offspring of good coding. But Orion Pax had been raised in the world were mecha conjuxed for love-

The transport didn't start and lift off into the sky as Optimus had expected. Instead, Starscream scooted across the seat and boldly climbed into Optimus's lap, draping his lithe frame over him like a warm and fragranced seeker-blanket. 

Optimus blinked in surprise but could hardly complain. He tilted his helm back to rest it against the headrest as Starscream started to kiss his jaw, full lips making a slow path from corner to chin. 

"Oh, I see," Optimus breathed, realising quickly why they had insisted he fly with them. "Another one of your plots?"

"Shut up and kiss me," Starscream muttered, trying to catch his lips. 

Optimus held Starscream's small waist and leaned back, allowing him to do as he willed. He watched Megatron settle into the seat across from them, his optics dim but content with the show. Optimus's own optics fluttered as Starscream's hungry mouth began nipping at his throat cabling, catching a sensitive wire between his lips and sucking. 

Optimus's breath hitched. "Do either of you ever actually do this sort of thing in a berth?" He queried. 

"Not as often as I would like," Megatron admitted, with an exasperated glare aimed at Starscream's lopsided, twitching wings. 

Optimus felt Starscream's denta against his neck. "You remember I'm sparked?" he said dangerously. 

"How could we forget," Megatron grumbled. 

"This is fond teasing," Optimus reassured Starscream, squeezing the minuscule waist he held, finding the weight of the seeker in his lap comforting and familiar. He nosed at Starscream's audial and inhaled his scent, feeling a sense of warm fulfilment wash over him. 

Part of him wanted to simply hold Starscream -to hold _both_ of them- and relish in their return to his life. 

But Starscream had other things on his mind. 

Optimus grunted when his seams were tickled by clever, nimble fingers, and when he shifted he felt his weight shake the entire transport on it's landing gear when he jolted at Starscream's first touch to his warming codpiece. The seeker was squirming in his lap, the rub of warm, smooth inner thighs against his armour rushing him into pressurising. He glanced over Starscream's shoulder vent at Megatron, who had yet to rise from his slumped position watching them. 

"Easy, Starscream," Optimus tried to slow the seeker when Starscream's vents came quick and staggered, pulling him closer and seating him more securely in his lap. "Easy."

Starscream spread his knees further out and rolled his stomach, grinding his hips down against Optimus. His exposed valve was soft and wet and left damp smears of lubricant across the tops of Optimus's thighs. 

Optimus planted his pedes flat against the floor of the transport and slid down his seat a little to give himself more room to move. His spike slotted between the folds of Starscream's valve and the seeker began sliding along it shamelessly, his helm thrown back, mouth falling open to moan when the ridge at the tip caught the bundle of nodes at the front of his valve. Optimus's fingers flexed on Starscream's waist, his spike twitching where it lay pinned between his stomach and Starscream's cushiony mesh. 

"Primus, I've missed you," Starscream finally admitted, voice hoarse. "Oh, that _spike_ -"

"Did you miss me or my 'endowment'?" Optimus growled, pushing down on Starscream to increase the friction. 

"Both," Starscream whined, rising up onto his knees so the tip of Optimus's spike found his entrance. 

Megatron finally moved, closing in behind Starscream and stroking up his wings. Starscream sank down, breath hitching, and Optimus groaned as tight, flexing heat swallowed the head of his spike. 

Starscream rolled his hips forward, working Optimus deeper and gradually leaning back as he rolled his slender frame in sinuous motions. His wings knocked Megatron's chest with a little clunk and his helm lolled back to rest on the grey mech's broad shoulder. 

Optimus watched Megatron turn his helm to nuzzle Starscream's forehead. His huge black hands swept around to Starscream's front and ran down the length of his chassis until they came to rest atop Optimus's. They began to move Starscream together, Megatron lifting him and Optimus circling his hips upwards. 

Starscream's breathing became laboured when Megatron reached down to stroke his node, first teasing it with light strokes, then pressing down with his thumb and rubbing it until Starscream's optics surged with power and he started to overload, frantically bucking between them. 

Megatron pinned him against Optimus with grunt, growling rough encouragement into Starscream's audial until the seeker went struttless between them, his valve flexing weakly around Optimus. His hot, flushed face became vacant and blissful. 

Megatron leaned over his drooped wing and caught Optimus in a kiss without warning, squashing Starscream between them in his eagerness. He bit down on Optimus bottom lip with a possessive engine rumble that reverberated right through Starscream's frame and sent tingles into Optimus's spark. His hands clenched on Starscream's hips as he pressed the seeker down as far as he could, jabbing his spike deep into his syrupy valve and overloading with a satisfied hum against Megatron's lips. 

Starscream felt it and groaned softly between them, his head rolling across Megatron's shoulder. His optics unshuttered as he watched them kiss with increasing fervour. 

"Stop it," he muttered, wriggling an arm out from it's place trapped against Optimus's windshield so he could shove at Megatron's head. "If you're too 'worn out' to frag me, you're too worn out to frag him." 

"This is a different kind of energy," Megatron purred smugly, his lips curving against Optimus's. His hand found Optimus's aft and gave it a firm, lecherous squeeze. Optimus groaned, and the depth and tone of his voice caused Starscream to shudder weakly. His valve cycled tightly around Optimus in interest. 

Optimus peered around the two frames crowding him to see out the tinted windows of the transport, concerned with how long they had been sitting out here. "I'm sure there are laws against loitering-"

"You're the Prime," Starscream snickered fondly, looking endearing dishevelled with his optics so dim and his cheeks so bright. "Who's going to fine you?" 

"It's your transport," Megatron nipped Starscream's wing playfully. " _You_ would get the fine." 

"Who's going to fine the carrier of the Prime's heir?" Starscream clarified, just as confident. 

Optimus decided not to worry them with the likes of Prowl and his professional tenacity. Even if Primus himself was caught loitering in this city, Prowl would give him a fine. 

* * *

  
Optimus took them straight to his private suites, which meant exploring an entirely separate part of the citadel. It had a marginally more homely feel to it, but it was still _The_ Citadel, full of columns and high ceilings and grand archways. 

As Megatron walked behind the pair -Optimus led the way and Starscream had darted off ahead to chat away with the Prime about all the high expectations he had for their ritus- Megatron took in the bare walls and empty pedestals. 

"Haven't had time to decorate?" He called. 

Optimus looked embarrassed. He dropped his helm. "Sentinel's treasures were not to my taste." 

"I heard he had the stolen riches of a thousand colonies up here," Starscream said absently, peering curiously at an empty glass case. "The Winglord was always so jealous..."

"He did," Optimus said tonelessly. "And they were _not_ to my taste." 

Megatron was intrigued, "I can't imagine the council would have allowed you to give them back." 

"I tried," Optimus admitted, leading them to a large set of gold gilded doors. "In the end, my aids arranged to have to sent to a private museum. For safe keeping." He began entering a long code to unlock the doors. "We should go in, before we're seen." 

Megatron felt a wave of irritation wash over him at Iacon's unashamed greed. Some of those stolen riches had come from Tarn, great stones that had been mined from the core of the planet, by mecha he and many of his crew had been raised on stories of. Yet he had never seen their achievements. No one in Tarn had. Because they were hidden away in Iacon. 

"Your aids aren't going to throw us out again, are they?" He heard Starscream asking, drawing him out if his resentful musings. 

"No," Optimus said with more force than Megatron would have expected. Even Starscream looked taken aback. Optimus cleared his vocaliser, correcting his tone. "No, I wouldn't let them." 

"How will you break the news?" Megatron asked as the doors beeped positively and began to open inwards on automatic hinges.

Starscream rudely pushed past Optimus in his haste to see the Prime's private berth room. Megatron kept pace with Optimus, studying _him_ , rather than the interior decor.

"You think they will take it badly?" Optimus asked softly, as if in denial with the reality of their relationship, and how his 'colleagues' were going to take it. 

Starscream had crossed the room and was already climbing across Optimus's berth, pulling out the sheets to check their material and thread count. Megatron's spark warmed with fondness at the sight of him messing up the berth and knocking all the pillows to the floor - trashing the room within seconds of entering it. 

"He's a seeker," Megatron shrugged as they continued to watch him. 

"He's a Vosian Prince," Optimus said, as if Megatron had forgotten. 

"That could make to all the worse," Megatron admitted reluctantly. "They know he's clever, influential-" 

Optimus glanced at him, "So are you."

"But _I_ am not carrying the Prime's coding," Megatron reminded him. 

"Megatron!" Starscream interrupted them, calling him over as he bounced on his aft in the centre of the berth. "Come and see these springs." 

"Make yourself at home," Optimus sighed, sweeping out an arm to gesture to the grandness of the room he used only to recharge in. "My aids will be worried about where I have gotten to."

"They're right to worry," Megatron joked. 

"Megatron!" Starscream called impatiently from the berth.

"Alright, I'm coming!" He snapped to placate him before turning to Optimus again. "Do not let them bully you. You are their superior, use a show of force is necessary-" 

Optimus looked mildly concerned, "I don't think I'll be taking any of your advice on staff management, Megatron." 

"My only true advice will be that you tell your aids to stick their opinions up their tail pipes before I do it for them," Megatron pointed, hating the idea of Starscream being mistreated in the condition he was in. He knew the seeker would roll his optics and say he didn't care what mecha who were more rust than metal thought of him, but Megatron would sooner overthrow the entire outdated, corrupt system before allowing anyone to make Starscream feel small. 

" _Megatron_!" Came the voice from the berth. 

Megatron winced at the shrill noise but his frown fell away when Optimus leaned towards him. He stopped and Megatron blinked in surprise. For a moment he had thought Optimus was going to-

Optimus overcame his moment of hesitation and pressed a firm kiss to the corner of Megatron's mouth. He was striding off on his enviously long legs before Megatron could reset his processor and think to haul him back for a much more deserving response. 

"Megatron, stop ignoring me!" He was screeched at again. 

Megatron shuttered his optics and began making his way to the berth. He hoped to Primus Optimus was able to persuade the powers that be that this would work. He didn't think he could handle a carrying Starscream alone...

* * *

  
The council called an emergency meeting. 

Optimus sat at the helm of the long oval table and stared across at the seated council mechs all shaking their helms and thumping their fists. Every seat was full, when even the last time Optimus had been summoned to the incident room, after a _bomb_ had been set off outside the Iacon Theatre House, there had been empty seats. 

Apparently, the presence of a seeker in the private life of their Prime was a greater concern to them than public lives. 

"The answer is 'no'," the Chancellor's voice broke through the chatter when he spoke directly to Optimus. 

Optimus curled his hands into fists, "This is a personal matter-"

"The Prime is not a _personal_ figure," the Chancellor interrupted him sternly. "You must conjunx someone befitting your station." 

" _Starscream_ is a member of Vosian royal family," Optimus could hear the tension growing in his voice. He consciously relaxed his fists, telling his spark to settle down. If this was Tarn, perhaps he could have raged and threatened. But Iacon required a more diplomatic touch- even if it did at times feel like talking to a fifty million year old brick wall. 

"He is already conjunxed," the Chancellor countered. 

"Vos allow for multiple conjunx endura." 

The Chancellor scoffed, "Iacon does not." 

"Then we'll complete the Conjunx Ritus _there_ ," Optimus stood abruptly, the noise catching the attention of the angrily muttering council members. They stared at Optimus in shock. "I'll forsake the Matrix and abdicate my position-"

"No Prime has ever abdicated-!" A horrified noise cried. 

"You will throw aside the Primacy for a _seeker_?" the Chancellor asked disbelievingly, and the amusement Optimus could hear in his voice set his teeth on edge. "I understand you're still young, Optimus, but there is more to life than _that_. At any rate, you needn't _conjunx_ a seeker to enjoy the pleasure of their company." 

Optimus could only assume he was talking about intimacy. His armour plating crawled. "Starscream is carrying," he told them. 

He expected an uproar, but only a few helms shook in disproval. The Chancellor leant back in his seat with an air relief and an expression like the world was making sense to him again. "Ah, well, that explains it. There's no need to worry, we have special provisions set aside in the Citadel's budget for this sort of thing." 

"I don't want to pay him off, I want to be with him! Both of them!" Optimus wondered how much further down the rabbit-hole this conversation was going to take him. Part of him had always known of the sleazy corruption within the council, but setting aside shanix for bribes and hush money? Displaying such open prejudices?! 

"Then take them as concubines," the Chancellor said helplessly, thumping his fist on the table again. "But for the sake of the Thirteen before you, don't _conjunx_ them. It'll destroy the entire system!"

Fuck the system, thought Optimus. 

"You will either accept two Consorts, or lose your Prime," Optimus realised this conversation was going nowhere and laid down his ultimatum. Dozens of horrified optics stared up at him as he continued to speak. "I will abdicate my position, live with them in their home city-states, and tell every media-outlet that will listen _exactly_ why." 

He levelled them all with a glare. He was met with tense silence. The Chancellor looked mutinous.

Optimus nodded, "Let my aids know when to release the announcement - whichever one you choose." 

He left, and not one of them dared stop him. 

* * *

The sky was only just beginning to darken outside, but it would be well past midnight in Vos. 

Megatron dozed in the large soft berth that smelt vaguely of Optimus, in too unfamiliar a place to really relax into a recharge cycle. Starscream was had such inhibitions, and was snoring softly next to him, splayed out on his back.

Megatron slipped an arm behind him and began to stroke his wing, relishing the smooth glide of polished metal under his fingertips. The dim light made it hard for him to work out the seeker's fine features, but as he studied him Megatron found himself thinking that if their sparklings bore even the slightest resemblance to their creator, they would be incomparable beauties. 

Starscream stirred with a huffy noise, "Sensors are more delicate during a carriage," he muttered, his wing twitching in Megatron's grasp. 

Megatron leaned over him and kissed the very edge of his jaw, "You're always delicate." 

A blue hand came out of nowhere and playfully slapped Megatron's cheek. Megatron caught his hand before it could fall away and threaded their fingers together.

"Where's Optimus?" Starscream mumbled into a pillow. 

"He has yet to return," Megatron glanced at the sealed doorway. 

"You don't think they've killed him, do you?" Starscream asked quietly. 

"They would have killed us first," Megatron reassured him. 

The covers shifted as Starscream rolled towards him, squirming into his arms. "What if they're brainwashing him against us?" 

"They're not that clever."

"They can't push us out again," Starscream said hotly. "I won't let them." 

Megatron hummed an agreement, running his fingers up and down the centre of Starscream's back, fingering absently at the hinges of his wings. The seeker was warm and pliant against him, their armour slotting comfortably together. 

There was a beep outside as the door unlocked. The tranquility of their embrace broke when Megatron sat up hurriedly, pinning Starscream down flat and out of sight with a hand on his chest in case someone other than Optimus was returning to them. 

But cool blue light shone across the room and the relief knocked the air from Megatron's vents. Next to him, Starscream scrambled upright, his wings sticking up high in hope and anticipation. 

"Well?" He called, voice hoarse and scratchy. 

Optimus let his battle-mask fold away to reveal a smirk, "They need us to set a date ...for the start of our Conjunx Ritus." 

The news hadn't even registered in Megatron's processor before Starscream, a tad overexcited by his victory, emitted a screech at such a high decibel Megatron's audials went out with a _pop_. Their celebrations had to be put on hold for a few hours while they took him back to the med-centre to be repaired. 

But afterwards, they more than made up for the lost time. 


End file.
